Someone to Save You
by yourKonstantine
Summary: Just as Sweets' relationship with Daisy ends, a mysterious killer begins to target the women in his life. Can he protect his new girlfriend from the fate that may await her?
1. wonderful tonight

**Someone to Save You  
**_chapter one  
_wonderful tonight

Dr. Lance Sweets looked, to put it plainly, hot.

He'd bought a new suit just for this occasion--Armani, a huge splurge--and it fit like a dream. The black pants were tailored perfectly to his thin legs, the coat sliding onto his slim torso as though it were made specifically for him. With a spritz of cologne, Lance was ready. All there was to do now was just wait. He wandered aimlessly around his office, hoping that somehow it would make time pass faster.

"Hey, Sweets, would you--whoa." Angela Montenegro stopped in the doorway of his office. "You look spiffy. You and Daisy got a hot date?"

Lance smiled, however weakly. "Not me and Daisy, per se..."

Angela's jaw dropped. "Oh, my God. Did you two break up?"

He shoved his hands into the pockets of the jacket. "A couple of weeks ago, yeah."

"And you didn't tell anyone? Sweets--"

"I'm a psychologist. Feelings are what I do. I think I can deal with my own." He shrugged.

Angela shook her head. "Well, Brennan needs you to look through these tapes and find anyone who seems murderous." She handed a stack of three videotapes to him, then shook her head again. "Man, I can't even believe that..."

"It's fine, really. I'm fine. There are no issues."

"Why'd you break up?" Angela asked, sitting down on the black couch opposite Lance.

He lowered an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be sketching murder victims or something?"

"Oh, don't edge the question. Why'd you break up?"

Lance sighed and collapsed on the couch. "She was...unsatisfied. She was seeing someone else."

"Oh, Sweets, that's awful!" Angela stood as though she were going to give him a hug, but he stopped her.

"I'm fine. I'm coping. It's difficult, but I'm coping." He crossed his legs. "It kinda sucks."

"At least you can still have sex..." Angela muttered. "How are you coping?"

He let out a little laugh. "Honestly? Death metal. I stopped listening to it years ago, and especially after that investigation we did, but, y'know, sometimes just yelling RAR RAR RAR over and over is the best thing."

"Or, y'know, sex." grunted Angela. "Well, if you wanna talk, you know where I am."

She headed out the door, patting Sweets' shoulder as she passed. He stifled a grin and shut the door behind her, then closed the blinds. After making sure no one was around, he tuned the radio to a Slipknot song and, mouthing the lyrics, flung his head in a violent circle to the pounding bass beat.

And then the door opened.

"Sweets--"

Lance quickly turned down the stereo and patted his hair. He saw Special Agent Seeley Booth standing in the doorway. "Yes?" He swallowed hard.

"Were you...headbanging?" He cocked his head to the side.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Booth." Lance sputtered. "What do you need?"

"Therapy. Why else would I be up here?" He flopped down on the couch with a grunt. "I've got a small problem."

"Well, uh, I'm going to be leaving in about fifteen minutes, so can this wait until tomorrow?" He mindlessly straightened his desk, glancing back at Booth.

"No, it can't wait until tomorrow!" Booth snorted. "It's kind of really important."

Lance sighed and sat down. "Alright. What's up?"

Booth wouldn't make eye contact, and he tapped his foot restlessly. "I'm in love with Bones."

Lance coughed, unsure of whether he'd heard Booth correctly. "Excuse me?"

"I am in love with Temperance Brennan." breathed the agent, dark eyes finally meeting Sweets'.

"You love Dr. Brennan?" Lance repeated slowly.

"Yeah. I love Bones."

Lance sucked on his lower lip. "Does she know?"

Booth shook his head.

"You know, I've noticed this since the beginning." Lance said. "Since our first sessions, you two have only grown more affectionate. You have a very close relationship; it's not unheard of for you to take it to a sexual or a romantic level."

"I don't care how long you've noticed it for, Sweets. I just need to know what I need to do."

"Well, I can't exactly spit out psychoanalysis like a fortune cookie. I need time, and I also really need to go." He looked down at his watch. "I've got plans, important plans." He ran a hand through his hair. "If you'll come see me first thing tomorrow, I'll be glad to talk you through this."

Booth let out a groan as he stood and exited the room. "Sweets, sometimes, I swear, you're useless!"

And Lance forgot about Brennan and Booth and thought of good Chinese food and crappy chick flicks, and he fixed his black tie, picked up his briefcase and keys, and smiled.

"Hot date," he said aloud. "I've got a hot date."

* * *

Lance sat down at a table in the low light of the Blue Lotus restaurant, the smell of Asian spices and sauces tempting his nose. He ordered a glass of red wine--after being carded, of course--and waited.

Melody Baker was not expecting her date to look so _young_. He'd always had a baby face in college, but she didn't realize that he still looked like he was 14. Still, though, she thought he was cute, just like she'd thought the first time she'd seen him in her Sociology of Film class.

He saw her standing and searching the restaurant from where he sat. She still looked gorgeous--bright green eyes, soft blonde hair, and lips that rivalled his own in their plumpness and kissability.

Her eyes met his, and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved at her wildly, and she came to the table, draped white dress billowing around her sandaled ankles. "Lance!" Melody giggled as she approached his position.

He stood up and embraced her. "It's been awhile." She smelled of summer rain, with underlying hints of vanilla.

"Too long." She pulled away. "Wow. Two years?"

He nodded as he took his seat again. "At least. What've you been up to?"

"I'm a guidance counselor at Jefferson High." Melody brushed her hair back. "You?"

He took a sip of his wine. "I am a psychologist for the FBI, actually."

"Wow, nice! Beats mine by, like, a mile." She smiled warmly.

Lance felt his cheeks flush, and he downed the rest of his wine. They ordered dinner--duck for him, orange chicken for her--and enjoyed the company.

Booth would've been proud.

* * *

"Oh, I hate this part..." Melody murmured as the main couple in the manufactured chick flick had their obligatory fight.

"You know, these movies are incredibly unrealistic. In most circumstances, it's impossible to fall in love in less than a month..." Lance whispered. "These characters' psychological profiles are completely nonexistent."

She glared and tossed a piece of popcorn at him. "Don't go all psychologist on me. They already broke up, and now you're telling me they don't have feelings?"

"Well, first off, they're characters, so--"

She put a finger to his lips and hushed him. "Just watch the movie."

Lance rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, stealing glances at Melody as she focused intently on the movie. Of course, the couple got back together, ending the movie with a passionate kiss.

He wanted to tell her _life isn't like that. Love doesn't happen like that. People don't act like that._

But he didn't, and as the credits rolled, he felt her hand lock around his own. She smiled at him, gentle, and he gave her a soft squeeze.

Maybe love did happen like that.

* * *

The two walked hand-in-hand to Lance's cobalt blue Tribute, with Lance opening the door for Melody. "What a gentleman." she giggled.

"I try." murmured Lance as he climbed into the SUV. "Home?"

"You could take me home, yeah. That would be great."

Melody gave him the directions to her place, and Lance drove there, making sure that the Megadeth album in the stereo was turned off.

He pulled up in front of a small apartment building. "Wanna come inside?" Melody asked, eyes yearning, hoping.

Lance sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "I'd love to, but I can't. I need to do some stuff for work. Psychoanalyzing coworkers and everything."

Her tone was somber. "Oh...okay. I understand."

He gave his goofy, childlike smile. "Want me to walk you to the door?"

"That would be lovely, Dr. Sweets." she smirked, and they piled out of the SUV.

At her door, they stood opposite one another, hands still clasped together tight. "Thanks so much for tonight." Melody whispered. Somewhere, a cricket chirped incessantly.

"I had fun. We should do this again, when I'm less busy." Lance answered. Both hands were together now.

"Right, yeah. Tonight was great." She glanced up at him, into his soft brown eyes.

He memorized her smile, committed this feeling to memory. "Fantastic..."

Her heart raced. "Perfect."

A moment of silence. Not awkward, simply silent.

"I'm out of adjectives." Lance grinned. "But this was a good time."

Melody nodded. "Definitely."

Slowly, she sunk into him, his warm cinnamon scent enveloping her. His hands found her waist and he held her tight to him, and she wrapped her palms around his neck. There was an electric sensation when their lips finally met; an addicting, breathless feeling that neither could get enough of.

It was over all too soon, and with only a quiet "Good night," Melody disappeared into her apartment.

He touched his lips in disbelief, shook his head, then climbed back into the SUV and headed to the FBI building. There was a long night ahead of him.

* * *

_In a deserted lot in Illinois, Belinda MacArthur brought a young man into her psychic tent._

_She feigned reading a crystal ball, and spoke his future._

_"Many will know your name...there are many lives in your hands."_

_Robert Sanger could deal with that future. He'd make sure it would happen, too._

* * *

**A/N.**

So, I hope you've all enjoyed the first chapter of my first Bones fanfic! It's going to be Sweets-centric, but the whole gang will be there, I promise.

If you've loved it...review. Even if you didn't love it, review the stupid thing.

Love y'all!


	2. bold as love

**Someone to Save You  
**_chapter two  
_bold as love

Lance slept in his office that night, drowsy as he pored over Booth and Brennan's file. The words melted together, faded into a pool of nothingness except for the two things echoing in his head.

_"I'm in love with Bones."_

_"Good night."_

He wanted to forget one and work on the other, and he couldn't choose, and his head suddenly hurt. His papers were heavy in his hands, and really, he just wanted to sleep. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes, and let the swimming feeling in his head take over, and everything turned dark.

* * *

"Sweets!"

The psychologist was roused from his somewhat peaceful sleep, frantic eyes meeting those of the equally frantic Seeley Booth. "Yes?" Lance groaned, spinning his chair to face Booth.

"Psychoanalysis? You said you'd be ready this morning; please tell me you're ready..." Booth pleaded.

Lance pulled the file out of a drawer and told Booth to sit down, and he sat opposite him, clipboard in hand. "So, signs have shown that there has been a mutual affection, if not attraction between you and Dr. Brennan since we started our sessions."

"I could've told you that. What do I need to do?" Booth raised an eyebrow.

"You're not gonna like it."

"At this point, I don't care."

"I think you should tell her." Lance said plainly. "Otherwise, there's going to be a lot of tension between you while you work."

Booth gave a heaving sigh. "And telling her _isn't_ going to create tension?"

"Well, look at it this way. The only reactions Dr. Brennan can have are to either accept the fact and move on, pursue you, or let it bother her. You've got a 66% chance of a positive reaction with little to no tension."

"I don't like those odds."

Lance shrugged. "That's the best I can do."

"What happens if I don't tell her?" Booth cocked his head to the side, massaging his temple with his fingertips.

"Then you get to deal with the feelings that'll be bottled up, and, eventually, you'll probably tell her anyway. You have a tendency not to think before you speak..." Lance's voice trailed off.

Booth shook his head. "That's probably not the best thing to say to me right now; have you forgotten that I carry a gun everywhere?"

"My point exactly." grinned Sweets.

"I'm going to kill you." Booth deadpanned, standing up. "I'll let you know what happens."

Lance perked up. "If you want, I could observe--"

"That won't be necessary."

And Booth was gone, quickly replaced by a frantic Temperance Brennan. "Sweets, _what_ have you done to my partner?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Booth is being...skittish. It's disrupting our investigation, and I've deduced that you're the cause. He came running up here this morning before we could leave to go to the crime scene--he even skipped his coffee!" Brennan's eyes widened. "Whatever you're doing...it would be much more beneficial if you stopped."

"I've just been giving him psychoanalysis like he asked for. He should settle down within a few days, or, at most, a few weeks."

"Weeks? We don't have weeks, Sweets. We don't even have days. We're in the middle of a very intense investigation, and--"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan, but you cannot blame me for this. Maybe you and Agent Booth should have a discussion about what's been going on with him."

Brennan turned her head, as though she were going to dispute him, but she stopped. "That is a very logical idea, Dr. Sweets. I think we will."

Lance smiled to himself as Dr. Brennan left his office, then turned back to his computer and turned up his Behemoth _Demigod_ album.

* * *

Melody Baker wished she had said more to him, more than the pathetic little _good night_ she'd mustered up after that incredible kiss.

She sat in her empty office--always empty, as no sane elementary-aged kid wanted to go to the guidance counselor--and thought, contemplated.

He had changed a lot since those University of Pennsylvania days. He was a little older now, a little more mature, a little more...sexy, in a way, not that you could really get away with calling him that. He still looked like he was a middle schooler.

Somehow, she missed his college days, though. He was freer back then, more loose and carefree. Oftentimes, she'd see him sneaking through the quad with a bottle of Corona hidden in his backpack. She laughed at the thought.

They'd spent too many nights sitting out in front of the dorms in the rain, just sitting there. He'd been there when her brother was sent to Iraq, and she'd been there when his adoptive parents had passed away.

She was the first person outside of his family that had seen the scars the marred the skin on his back. She remembered crying when he'd gotten the strength to show them to her.

He had cried, too. He'd told her, and then cried, and then laughed slowly. "Coping," he'd muttered, "at least I'm coping."

The rain fell harder then, just like it did now. She looked hopelessly out the window, wondering what he was thinking. She missed him, truly missed him.

* * *

"So...what are you doin'?"

Lance sat at home in his empty apartment, the lights dimmed slightly. A soft Debussy piece played in the background, a departure from his recent death metal kick.

"Oh, just reading. You?" He smiled at hearing Melody's voice.

"Sitting around...not much to do for a Friday night." he answered.

The line was silent for a moment, but just a brief moment. "I had a really great time last night."

He smiled. "Me too. I definitely want to do it again sometime."

"Well...do you maybe wanna come over?" Her voice was pensive, but it drew him in nonetheless.

Lance drew in a quick breath. "Like, now?"

"Yeah, now, silly! Come on, it'll be fun." She let out a silver giggle.

He let himself grin lazily. "Alright, I'm on my way over."

* * *

Melody paced the length of her apartment nervously as she waited for Lance to arrive. She thought it was stupid, getting all worked up over nothing like this, but she couldn't shake the breathless feeling in her lungs.

The doorbell rang and her heart jumped. He was here.

* * *

_Belinda Macarthur was dead._

_Her tent was spotted with fresh blood, and Robert Sanger was nowhere to be found._

_$300, a cell phone, and a photograph were missing from the back room._

_The travelling circus packed up and left the scene as it was._

* * *

**A/N.**

Ooh, intense.

Well, school's cancelled for the remainder of the week (and possibly next week) on account of the swine flu, and my trip to Los Angeles has been postponed.

Basically, it sucks.

Whatever. I hope you enjoyed and I really hope you'll review!


	3. enter sandman

**Someone to Save You  
**_chapter three  
_enter sandman

She went to the door, heart pounding. She knew she really had no reason to be nervous, because, after all, it was _just_ Lance, and it was _just _the guy she'd been lusting over since college. No real reason to be nervous at all.

"Hi!" he said a bit too eagerly when she opened the door. He was nervous, too, although he couldn't quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it was that kiss, that kiss that rivalled all of the ones he'd ever gotten from Daisy.

"Hey," she answered. "Come on in."

It felt like his entire body was shaking. Melody's hand brushed against the bare skin of his arm as he passed, and it made him shiver. He took a seat in a small navy-blue recliner. He tried to hide the quake of his hands.

"Do you want a drink? I can get a couple of beers, or--"

"I don't need anything. Thanks, though."

She sat down on the couch, glancing at him. This was much...different than she had expected.

"So...what've you been up to?" Melody asked, running a hand through her hair. She hated making small talk like this. She wanted to talk to him about feelings and life and the future; she wanted to talk to him like they'd talked in college.

He swallowed hard. "Just working and everything. Thinking."

"Thinking? About what?"

He wanted to tell her, _oh, nothing, nothing but you and how I've been wanting to come here and talk and talk like we used to._

But he didn't say that. "Just...things."

He wasn't normally like this, and it was sort of worrying her. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm just...I'm kind of in a weird mood, I don't really know what's up." He paused for a moment, and then laughed. "You know things are bad when even the psychologist can't tell you what's wrong."

She nodded. "I...I hate when that happens."

And there was silence. And they both hated the silence, because it was thick and empty and this was not how it was supposed to be.

He put his head in his hands. "I don't know what's wrong. I feel like something bad is going to happen, and I don't know what."

"What?" she asked, realizing how stupid it was once she'd said it. You don't say _what?_ after someone just told you that they think something bad is going to happen. That is not how you respond. They teach you that when you're getting your psychology degree.

Lance drew his legs up into the chair. "I don't know, Melody. Sometimes it just feels like everything's about to go out of control. Things are going wrong. Things are going bad."

And she was quiet, because she didn't know what to say. This was something they didn't teach you when you were getting your psychology degree.

"I just...I don't know how to approach it. And I can't psychoanalyze myself out of this one, because I don't know what's going on. I can't focus on anything, and it just feels like something bad is going to happen. And...and I hate this."

His head was hurting again. He hadn't come here for a therapy session, but that was what it was turning in to. And in his therapy sessions, he wasn't the one who was getting the therapy. This was not good.

"Lance--" she started, but she didn't know how to finish. He was crumpled in that chair, just as broken as he ever was. She hated seeing him like this.

So she stood and went to the chair and sat down on its arm, and she slid her hand down to where his was and took it and squeezed tight. He glanced up at her from the corner of his eye, and he felt better knowing she was there. She stroked the top of his head ever gently, and he closed his eyes to fight the tears.

"It's okay..." she mumbled, even though she knew it probably wasn't. "I'm here. It's okay."

And he wanted to believe her, but he didn't let himself believe lies anymore.

* * *

She stayed there with him like that for a good hour, just trying to figure out what was wrong, and she didn't make any progress. But she held him, and it felt good. Of course, she really shouldn't have felt good about holding him for that particular reason, but nonetheless it was still enjoyable.

Somewhere around midnight, she'd crawled up into the chair with him and held him until he fell asleep, and then watching him breathe. Truly, it was a little weird, but she just wanted to be there to comfort him.

Lance didn't sleep well that night at all. His dreams were laced with night terrors--awful nightmares he hadn't had since he was a child. He kept waking in a sweat, then drifting back into sleep when he saw Melody there next to him.

He held tight to her hand, his only grip on reality.

* * *

"We got a new case." Cam said, tossing a manilla folder onto Booth's desk. "I think it's going to be...interesting."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Interesting? Why?"

"Dead psychics always make for fun cases."

He opened up the file and flipped through the paperwork, finding the photo of the victim.

"Oh, my God." he murmured as he took out the photo.

"What?"

"Look." Booth pushed the photograph toward Cam.

The victim--one Belinda Macarthur--bore a strange resemblance to one of their friends, with her black hair and lively brown eyes.

Sweets.

* * *

_A University of Pennsylvania professor went missing that night._

* * *

**A/N.**

_Sorry it's taken so long to update...I've been busy. And I'm sorry the chapter's not that long, either...sorry. :(_


	4. the times, they are a changin

**Someone to Save You  
**_chapter four  
_the times, they are a-changin'

"What do we do?" Cam asked, sitting down at Booth's desk. "I mean, he can't be a part of the investigation."

"Well, we can't just not tell him." Booth spoke slowly. "We're not even for sure that she's even related to Sweets."

Cam's eyes widened. "No, I'm pretty sure she's related to Sweets."

"Until it's confirmed, he can help with the investigations and interrogations."

"So, what, we just let him figure out on his own that it's his mother that's dead?" She held her head in her hand. "This is not a fun situation."

Booth sighed. "I don't know, Cam. I don't really deal with this on a regular basis. I guess we need to confirm this as soon as we can, and then we have to tell Sweets."

She nodded. "Okay. Do you want us to compare their DNA? Because that would confirm it."

He shook his head. "I don't care...just do anything you can to make them _not_ be related...I can't take another mental case on the team."

"I know, Seeley." Cam stood up and began walking toward the door. "It'll be alright."

"I hope so."

* * *

Lance didn't feel rested at all. He didn't truly sleep the previous night, because he'd been so wrought with nightmares that he almost feared closing his eyes.

This wasn't supposed to happen to therapists. Therapists were supposed to be able to avoid this, and they were supposed to be able to fix things like this. But he felt helpless to the pain and the feelings of impending terror.

Now, as he lay on the couch in his office staring up at his ceiling, he couldn't avoid those feelings again. Those premonitions and those aches within him.

Someone knocked on his door.

"Come in." he said, just loud enough to be heard.

Angela walked in. "Hey, we--"

She abruptly stopped speaking when she saw him. Standing over him, she glanced down. "You okay?"

He shook his head.

She didn't know what to say. "Do you...do you need a hug?"

Lance mustered enough energy to laugh. "A hug would be nice, yeah."

He sat up and she came over to his side of the couch, then wrapped him in her arms. His eyes closed and he somehow felt safe, and the feelings were gone for a moment and everything just seemed alright.

She pulled away. "Better?"

"Yeah. So what did you need? I'm not in the best state to do any therapy right now, so--"

"I actually need to do a DNA swab." Angela's lively eyes became a little more somber.

He cocked his head. "What for?"

She began stammering. "It's...a new policy, we have to have DNA on record, and--"

"I didn't hear about a new policy--"

"They just introduced it, and--oh, God, Sweets..." Angela just stopped talking.

His psychologist senses were kicking in. "What? What's wrong? Talk to me."

She pushed her hair back over her head. "Oh, God, Sweets, they--there's this new case, and--and they think that the victim could be your mom...and we have to compare the DNA, and--oh, oh my God..."

She all but broke down in tears, and Lance drew in a deep breath. "They think my mom is dead? My mom died before I came here."

"Your biological mother, Sweets." Angela mumbled. "I'm sorry, I really am, and they didn't want me to tell you, but--I, I just, I can't _do_ that..."

He swallowed hard. "Okay."

Lance opened his mouth and, with a shaking hand, Angela swabbed the inside of his cheek. "I'm sorry, Sweets...I'm sorry..." she repeated over and over.

And he knew she meant it, because it seemed to be as hard for her as it was for him.

Angela dropped the swab into a sterile container and pulled Sweets into a protective embrace. "I'm sorry...God, I'm so sorry..."

He said nothing, just held on tight to the one last hope that things somehow might be okay.

* * *

"What's been bothering you lately?"

Booth was startled from his focus on the road. "What?"

Brennan repeated her question. "What's been bothering you lately? You seem so aloof."

"Okay, first of all, I'm definitely not _aloof_, whatever that means--"

"It means detached--"

"Okay, I'm not detached. And there's nothing bothering me. Why would you ask that?" He glanced over at her.

"Lately you've been so distracted. You seem out-of-touch, like you don't care anymore."

He furrowed his brow. "You know I care."

"I just said it _seemed_ like you didn't care anymore." Brennan shrugged. "But it's obvious that something is bothering you."

"Bones, nothing is bothering me."

There was a thick silence in the air.

"We got those results back. Sweets' DNA results." she said softly. "The woman is his mother."

Booth rubbed his temple. "That...that's really..."

"It's bad." Brennan murmured. "He shouldn't have to deal with this, he--he doesn't deserve it."

"Bad things happen to good people, Bones."

* * *

"Hey."

Sweets looked up from the computer monitor, eyes tired. Jack Hodgins stood in his office. "Hi."

Hodgins took in a deep breath. "I--I don't know why they sent _me_ up here to tell you this, but--but the DNA test results came back positive. The victim...she's your mom."

Lance nodded slowly. "Okay. Thank you."

Hodgins turned to walk out the door, but stopped. "You gonna be alright?"

"I'm a psychologist; I can deal with it."

"Okay."

And as Hodgins shut the door behind him, Sweets held his head in his hand and cried long and hard for a woman he'd never really loved.

* * *

_Professor Denise Wainwright was found dead the next morning._

_A yearbook was found open at the crime scene, a single student's photo cut from a page._

_Robert Sanger's whereabouts were still unknown._

* * *

**A/N.**

_My God, this is getting intense and freaking hard to write. Poor Sweets, the poor guy...ohhh that poor kiddo. Although I don't really guess I can call him 'kiddo,' considering as he's older than me._

_But I digress._

_This was a good chapter. Short, but good, and filled with drama._

_So I hope you'll review...that would make me happy, mega happy._

_I love you all, you pretty little darlings._


	5. breathe

**Someone to Save You  
**_chapter five  
_breathe

The entire team--except for Sweets, that is--was gathered in the center of the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal lab. Hodgins and Angela stood next to each other, with Hodgins keeping a tight grip on her waist. Cam was opposite Fisher, who was working in the lab this week. At the end of the lab table were Brennan and Booth, both struggling to contain their emotions.

There was silence until Fisher began speaking. "You know, I don't know why it's such a big deal. Death happens every day, and--"

"This is different, Fisher. It's Sweets' mom." Angela said softly. "Sweets shouldn't have to deal with this sort of thing."

He shrugged. "It's just another body. It's just another death. We'll all end up like that someday. We'll all just be buried under the earth, until we're devoured by--"

"Shut up, Fisher." Booth deadpanned.

Fisher quieted himself and poked at the body with a pair of forceps.

Cam shook her head. "I don't like this. I don't like it one bit."

"There's nothing we can do. I told Sweets and I guess he was alright. He didn't really say much." Hodgins muttered. "That kid...ugh."

Brennan didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. She knew that she should be trying to approach this rationally, but--but she'd never had to deal with this. She didn't deal with this ever.

She didn't like seeing people in pain. As much as she hated to admit it, it was one of the few things that truly affected her. When she thought of pain, she thought of Booth and war; she thought of Angela without Hodgins; she thought of Zack in the psych ward--and now she would have to think of Sweets losing his mother.

If she was a person who cried, she would've broken down in tears. But instead, she buried her hands in the pockets of her lab coat and shut herself away from everyone.

"Should we talk to him or something?" asked Booth, glancing around the lab table.

No one answered except Fisher. "He should see the body. It's his own DNA, you know."

Brennan finally spoke. "I do not think that would be the best response to the situation."

"Just let him come around on his own." Hodgins said. "It's probably not gonna be a good idea to force him."

"I really, really don't like this." Cam murmured.

"I can go talk to him, if you guys think it would be a good idea." Angela suggested, blinking back tears.

The lab fell silent again as a seventh person joined the circle around the table.

Lance Sweets drew in a deep, low breath. "Hey." he managed to say. His bottom lip quivered.

Angela slipped out of Hodgins' grasp and wrapped her arms tight around Sweets' body. "I'm so sorry..."

Sweets pulled away from her. "I know. And thank you all so much for your sympathy." He felt himself start to shake a little. "I know you guys have been trying hard to protect me. But you can't protect me from it anymore. I know what happened, and it's hard to deal with and, honestly, I don't know how I'm going to deal with it. But you--you can't hide things like this from me. I hate that this happened, but I hate that you didn't just tell me. Angela came to my office and ended up in tears, and that's not right. She doesn't deserve that."

Hodgins glanced at Angela and she pressed herself closer to him.

"I--I just wanted to ask you all if there's anything else that I need to be aware of, regarding what's happened here."

Sweets looked around the lab table and watched as Booth sighed.

"There was a murder of a University of Pennsylvania professor...we--we, uh, we think it might be connected to...to what happened to your mom."

Lance nodded. "Okay. Thank you for telling me." His eyes slowly drifted down to the body at the lab table for the first time, and his voice cracked. "This is--this is really hard for me to deal with."

Fisher went to say something, but he decided it would probably be for the worst if he said it.

"How can we help you?" Cam asked, reaching over the body to pat Sweets' shoulder. "Wait--can we move somewhere else? This is kind of...not the place to be having this sort of discussion."

"I think the diner would be a bit more appropriate." Brennan mumbled.

The group began walking toward the door, when Fisher turned back toward the table. "I think I'll stay here...I'm better with the dead than the living."

Booth rolled his eyes. "It's because you're dead inside, Fisher." he called back, only half-joking.

Sweets forced himself to smile.

* * *

"So, how can we help you?" Cam asked again, this time putting a spoonful of chocolate pie in her mouth.

The group sat at the counter, each with their own slice of pie. In Booth's words, pie made everything better.

"Heavy sedation." Sweets chuckled. He jabbed at his slice of apple pie with his fork, making the syrupy filling spill out over the plate.

They cracked up at that. "Seriously, Sweets. As much as I don't like you, it sucks to see you like this." Booth shrugged.

"I think I might need to take off work for awhile. That would be good." he answered.

Brennan nodded. "I think that would be an appropriate, rational response."

The conversation was scanty for the rest of the evening, and the diner slowly emptied. Angela left with Hodgins, and Cam said she had to go home to take care of some business, and Booth needed to go to pick up Parker from his mom's house.

Sweets and Brennan sat three seats apart, and Sweets glanced down the counter at Dr. Brennan. "Hey." he said.

She turned to face him. "How are you?"

He smiled a little. "I've been better. But you guys do make it at least a little more tolerable."

"That's...that's good. It really is an unfortunate situation, although it is inevitable."

"I know. I just wish it hadn't hit me at work. That...that is not cool."

"I feel that you will be able to cope with it, Dr. Sweets. If any of us would be able to cope with this situation, it would be you."

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan." he said, finishing off the last piece of his pie.

"I...I have to go now." she mumbled. "I'm sorry to be so abrupt..."

"It's okay. Thanks for everything."

Brennan nodded, then made her way to the door.

And Sweets sighed, because he didn't feel that he would be able to cope with it.

* * *

_The Beckford Place apartment complex was broken into three times that week._

_The lock on apartment 328 looked to have been tampered with._

_The resident--one Daisy Wick._

* * *

**A/N.**

GAHHHH SO INTENSE.

Poor Sweets. :(

School's out for summer (ha, the song just popped into my head) so I should be updating pretty regularly now.

Follow me on Twitter (yourKonstantine) and add me on Facebook (Kristen Marie in the Dallas/Ft. Worth and Cleburne High School networks) and don't be afraid to talk to me.

I love you guys so much, your reviews make my day!


	6. bleed like me

**Someone to Save You  
**_chapter six  
_bleed like me

That night, Sweets called Melody. His entire body hurt, beaten down with sorrow and spilled tears. He curled up in his bed, not even bothering to take off his suit, and dialed her number.

"Lance?" she answered, her voice a little wary.

"Yeah, it's me." he breathed.

"Are you okay? You sound like crap...no offense or anything."

He sighed. "No...no, I'm really not okay."

"Do you want me to come over? Or do you want to come over here? What do you need me to do?" Her tone was suddenly urgent, as though she could sense the brokenness he felt.

"I think if you came over, you'd be afraid to hear what I have to say." He pressed his eyelids together tightly. "I--I'm afraid to hear what I have to say..."

"Lance, tell me what's wrong. You know I'll listen. Just...talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

He opened his mouth to speak, but broke down in tears again. There was no use trying to control them anymore.

"Oh, my God...I'll be over in just a second, okay? Just...just hold on..." Melody said, frantic.

The phone clicked, and Sweets pushed his head into his pillow, heart aching.

* * *

Sweets heard a knock at his apartment door, and he forced himself to get up and open it. He knew it was Melody, but he felt as though she wouldn't want to see him. Not like this. His face was flushed and his eyes were red and puffy.

He opened the door, and Melody quickly wrapped him up in her arms. "What's wrong, baby? Tell me what's wrong..." she whispered, her fingers drawing slow circles on the nape of his neck.

"Someone--someone horrible--he--he--" He fell into sobs, making his words unintelligible.

"Shh, Lance, you have to talk to me." Melody murmured.

"Someone...someone killed my mother." he finally managed. "And one of my old professors."

Melody's eyes widened. "What?"

"My mother and my professor...they were murdered." Sweets moved back from Melody's tight hug. "I'm scared...I'm scared for Daisy and for you and for me."

She shook her head in disbelief. "No...no. Don't be scared. I mean, they can't be right, right? And I thought your mom was already dead..."

"My real mother. Biological. She's gone. And Professor Wainwright." He pulled her back into the embrace. "I'm not supposed to be afraid...that's not what's supposed to happen to me."

"Lance..." Melody breathed. She loosened her grip on Sweets' shaking body, stepping back to take a look at the very broken, very fearful man. "Lance, what do you need me to do?"

He pressed his lips together and leaned against the wall, bringing his hand to his forehead. "I don't know, Mel. I have no idea. This is the sort of thing I'm supposed to be able to fix. I'm supposed to tell people what they need to do to fight the feelings, to stay strong, but..."

Melody's heart broke for him. In college, they had counseled each other and healed each others' emotional wounds. None of the wounds cut this deeply, though. She had never seen him bleed this much.

Sweets sunk down onto the couch and Melody sat next to him. He attempted to choke back his tears, although he knew it wasn't worth the effort. Slowly, she took his hand, wrapping his long, thin fingers up in her palm. "It's going to be okay." she said, trying to believe her own words.

He didn't know if she was right or not. Somehow, though, with her there, it was almost worth trusting her. He allowed himself to nuzzle her neck and slip into a soft, tender kiss. For a few fleeting moments, he would forget about the fate that threatened Melody's existence and simply just love her.

* * *

_Robert Sanger had a plan._

_A very loose plan, but a plan nonetheless._

_Soon enough, he would tear Lance Sweets' world apart._

* * *

**A/N.**

I'm BAAAAACK!!!

I'm sorry this update took so long. Oh my goodness. I don't even have a good excuse except for that my muse completely left. But I'm totally enjoying the new season, so I figured I didn't need to leave you guys hanging!

This story DOES NOT coincide with the season...basically Booth's coma thing never happened. Brennan does not want a baby. Etc. Etc. Etc. That's just waaaaay too much drama for me to deal with and write about. Plus, I started writing this before all that junk came and muddled up my plot. Anyway. Whatever.

I hope you're loving the story (even though it's way depressing) and that you'll review!

LOOOOOVE YALL!


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